


A Chance

by secretlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:13:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlylarry/pseuds/secretlylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis is sad and harry wants to fix that</p><p>or</p><p>louis needs a suit for his mums wedding, and the boy at the tux shop helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance

The fabric of the velvet chair Louis’ seated in is so rough that he can feel it irritating the skin under his jeans. He shifts, uncomfortable, frowning as he glances down at his watch impatiently. The lobby of the tux shop is empty so he isn’t sure what’s taking so long, but he really would rather be at home in bed. His wrists are itchy. It’s one of those days.

His phone’s almost dead and he really isn’t into driving home without his music, so he’s been trying to find other ways to entertain himself. There’s a few magazines on the coffee table in front of him, but in the twenty minutes he’s been there he’s already flipped through them all once, and a few of them twice (there were some really cute models in the Men’s Suits one). There’s a television mounted in the corner of the room but it’s been playing nothing other than infomercials, so he’s resorted to counting the ceiling tiles. There’s 352. He’s sure of it, he counted 3 times.

“I am SO sorry.” Suddenly, Louis is a lot less bored and much more intrigued as he locks eyes with the beautiful curly haired boy who pops up behind the front desk. The boy looks frazzled, his hair strewn and cheeks red as he shuffles through some papers on the desk. His brow furrows as he pulls out a sheet, looking up. “Lewis, right?”

He forgets, for a second. Then he remembers. “It’s-it’s Louis, actually,” he corrects him, standing up slowly. The boy smiles at him, and Louis’ heart jumps in his chest.

“Sorry, mate. Hey.” The cutie steps out from behind the desk and holds out his hand. Luckily, Louis remembers to shake it. “I apologize for the wait. Just… a bit of a frustrating client, is all.” Harry’s face falls, his brow furrowing again, but he quickly shakes his head to clear the misty look in his eyes. 

“It’s cool,” Louis assures him. “I work at a restaurant. I know how frustrating customers can be.” Louis prides himself on the fact that he was able to get out a full sentence, but soon loses the ability to do so when Harry chuckles.

“So, you need a suit?” Harry asks, leading Louis into the showroom of the shop. They step past the tuxes and more extravagant pieces until they come to a back room, filled with more simple outfits.

“Yeah, for my mum’s wedding,” he tells him as his eyes browse over the selection in front of him. “I’m not, um, in the wedding party or anything. But I wanna look nice. You know? For my mum.” 

Harry’s silent for a second, so Louis looks over at him, and is surprised by the soft look in his eyes, the gentle smile, the way his head is tilted a little. “Mama’s boy, huh?” Harry asks with a smirk, walking over to one of the racks and pulling a shirt and pair of pants off it. Louis blushes a slightly and shrugs, and Harry notices. “Nah, nothing to be embarrassed about, man. I’m the same way.” Then, he winks at Louis, and Louis’ world stops for a second. 

Louis watches Harry as he continues to pick out some pieces, his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed again. He’s concentrating hard, glancing over at Louis every few seconds before turning back and picking something off the rack. Finally, after a minute or so, he has an armful of pieces. 

“Hopefully these are the right sizes… I sort of guessed but I tend to be good at that.” Harry leads Louis to the dressing rooms, picking one at random and hanging the clothes up in it. He turns to face the older boy, giving him a bright smile. “Go ahead and try some on, I’ll just hang out here until you’re done. Once you pick one we’ll get you up on the platform and see what needs to be altered.”

Louis licks his lips and nods, suddenly nervous at the thought of standing up there on display for Harry. He’s awkward enough as it is, hates himself enough as it is, so the idea of having this beautiful sweet lovely boy analyzing him makes him a bit uneasy; almost sick to his stomach.

But he keeps it together, gives Harry a tight smile, thanks him, and closes himself into the dressing room to panic alone.

\- -  
Louis doesn’t come out in the first or the second suit, deciding he will look like scum on the bottom of a shoe next to Harry, even though Harry is dressed in a simple pair of black jeans and a red and black flannel. He really isn’t sure if there’s any suit in the pile Harry’s supplied him with that will suffice. Not compared to Harry, who’s tall and lean with his broad shoulders and skinny legs and those soft dimples and those soft green eyes and that soft hair and overall ray of sunshine radiating off him. 

But Louis finally finds a semi-decent-okay-looking suit. It’s all black, from the pants, to the button up shirt, to the blazer. The fit is perfect, even on his too big thighs and bum. The tie is a deep maroon, thin and subtle with a smooth shine to it. He turns around a few times in the dressing room, checking himself from all angles in the mirror. 

“Louuuuu?” Louis jumps a little, almost slipping on his t-shirt that’s lying on the ground below him. He sees Harry’s shadow pouring in under the door. “Almost done in there?” Then there’s a soft tapping at the door.

“Yeah, hold on,” he says as he straightens himself up in the mirror one last time before finally stepping out. The lights are extra bright and there’s mirrors everywhere, and he feels out and open and vulnerable, but with the precious green eyed boy staring at him lovingly, it’s hard to feel self conscious. 

“Oh, wow,” Harry breathes out, stepping back to get a better look at Louis. He chuckles softly as he looks Louis up and down, and Louis has a hard time not sinking in on himself and covering up. “ This looks perfect, Lou. Just a few alterations and I think we may have found the one.” Harry gently grips Louis’ elbow and tugs him towards the modeling platform, leading him to stand upon it. 

“Well, this is awkward,” Louis chuckles softly, looking at himself in the mirror. He bits his lip as he scowls at his appearance, his opinion on the ensemble changing quite a bit from what he though in the dark enclosed dressing room.

“Heeey, don’t pout like that,” Harry whines jokingly as he starts pulling and tugging and pinching at different spots of Louis’ outfit. “This looks so good on you. And once we make a few changes, it’s gonna look perfect.” Louis blushes a bit, unsure of how to respond, and thankful when Harry doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he focuses his attention on pinning parts of the suit up. 

For a few moments, it’s silent, and Louis’ holding his breath, because fuck, Harry is beautiful, and fuck, his hands are skimming across Louis’ body and fuck, he really thinks he might shudder if he breathes. So he closes his mouth and refuses to release any air through his nose until he feels dizzy. Then he finally lets out a long huff.

This movement snaps Harry out of the focused daze he’s in as he peeks up at Louis. “So, you have a, um, date to this wedding?” He smirks a bit.

At this question, Louis freezes up, because this is flirting and he knows this is flirting and this perfect boy is flirting with Louis and he can hardly believe it. He doesn’t want to fuck this up, doesn’t want to say something stupid, and he really doesn’t want to humiliate himself. Then, Harry continues.

“I just want to make sure there’s no other outfit I have to consider. No one you wanna give a swatch of color to or anything. Don’t want colors clashing.”

(Just kidding on the flirting).

“I, um,” Louis starts, trying to find his words without sounding completely flustered and embarrassed and a bit disappointed. “No. No date. Mum wants me to bring one. But. I just. No.”

“Planning on asking anyone?”

Louis shrugs a bit, gazing back down at Harry as he begins to pin the bottom of the pants. They’re a bit long on Louis, skimming the floor when he walks. Louis blames his stupid chubby, stubby legs. “There’s someone I was thinking about asking, but. I dunno.

“Someone?” Harry asks, glancing back up at Louis with “that look” in his eye. Louis knows what Harry’s getting at.

“Some guy,” Louis clarifies with a knowing smile. Harry gives a small “hm” in response, unable to speak with the pins he’s holding between his (pretty pink) as he gently spins Louis around so his back is to the mirror. He cuffs the back of each pant leg and begins pining again.

“You should definitely ask him, then,” Harry says as he finishes up on the pants, standing up to gently mess with the shirts collar until it sits comfortably on Louis’ chest. “I promise you that weddings are ten times more fun with a date. I would have been bored to death at my mums if I hadn’t brought my boyfriend- well, ex boyfriend, now,” Harry corrects himself as he steps back to check Louis over. His eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses, but he continues to talk, almost as though altering and tailoring come naturally to him. “Snagged a bottle of champagne, got drunk in the back garden, got caught by my nan with his hand down my pants.” At this, Louis muffles a laugh against his fist, and Harry looks up at him as though it was the greatest sounds he’s ever heard. “Hey, don’t laugh. My nan’s partially deaf, so when she went inside and tried to whisper it to my mum, the entire room heard.”

Louis laughs out loud at this fact, his own face turning red with embarrassment at the thought of that ever happening to him. “I dunno, mate. You’re really turning me off to this whole date idea,” he says with a tilt of his head. Harry laughs and shakes his head as he approaches Louis once more. 

“Nah, trust me. Give it a shot. Ask him. Never know what could happen.”

They’re both silent for a few minutes after that as Harry messes with a couple more things, moves a couple pins around, takes some out, adds some here or there; he keeps muttering that it’s almost perfect, he just needs to change a thing or two, loosen it a bit on his bum, tighten it a bit on his chest.

“Alright, just about there,” he tells Louis (for the fourth time) as he get down on his knees and tugs at the suit’s sleeves, pulling them over Louis’ hands as far as they can go. “Think we should just cuff the sleeves a bit, then we’ll be good.” He begins to roll the sleeves up, slowly and neatly, when Louis suddenly panics.

“I think the sleeves are good,” he says quickly, voice high pitched and tight, tugging them back down over his hands, and more importantly, his wrists. Harry looks up at him, eyes narrowed and lips turned down into a small pout.

“They just need an inch or two, Lou,” he tells him, rolling them up once more. “Besides, can’t hold your dates hand if he can’t find yours.” Harry looks up at Louis and gives him a smile, and Louis knows he should smile back, but instead he just bites his lip as Harry goes back to work. Louis’ got his eyes squeezed shut, praying and hoping and asking anyone to please just make sure this situation doesn’t turn into what he thinks it’s going to.

But then, Harry turns Louis’ hand over, rolling the sleeve up more, exposing more of his wrist, and then, he freezes. Louis opens his eyes and looks down, and sees Harry’s locked on the red, pink and white lines, some old, faded, and healed, some new and fresh and still scabbed over. Harry’s thumb ghosts over them, and Louis sucks in a deep breath as the younger boy glances up at him. At first, Louis thinks he sees love and concern in his eyes, but then he remembers he just met Harry, and no one else has cared before, so why would some boy at the tux shop give a shit?

“You shouldn’t do this, ya know,” Harry says softly, and Louis scoffs, because, no.

“Yeah, well,” he says, tugging his arm away from Harry roughly, hiding both behind his back as his usual cold and angry demeanor takes over. “Duly noted. Are we done here?”

Harry looks up at Louis sadly and sits back on his knees as he nods a bit. “Yeah, we’re, uh- we’re good,” he says as he bites his lip awkwardly. “You can just hang the suit in the dressing room and I’ll come grab it. Just be careful not to-”

“Pull out the pins, I know,” he says, a venomous tone to his words as he steps off the platform, swiftly walking across the showroom. “‘I’ve been to weddings before. I know how this works.” And with that, Louis goes back in the dressing room, slams the door, locks it, and Harry’s left alone.

\- -  
Louis has to go back to the tux shop a week before the wedding for a final consultations, and he spends at least an hour of every day leading up to then dreading it. He pretends it’s because he’s mad at Harry (he doesn’t know why he is though), but really, for some reason, he’s nervous.

It’s been three years since he was diagnosed with depression, and one year since he started using pain to control his feelings, to punish himself, to numb what he was dealing with internally. Not a single person had ever noticed aside from the occasional stranger on the tube who he caught glancing down at the cuts and scars, and he’d always planned to keep it that way. His depression and cutting weren’t things he liked to broadcast. He hated getting sympathy or looks of pity. And he really didn’t want people to think he was doing it for attention. So when Harry saw his wrists, and when Harry mentioned it, and when it seemed like maybe, possibly Harry might actually care, Louis panicked, and when Louis panics, he ceases. Freezes. Shuts down. Checks out. And he becomes kind of a dick. Now he’s just hoping that maybe he was enough of an asshole to keep Harry from mentioning it again.

Louis should be relieved when he gets to the tux shop and there’s a women he’s never seen before behind the desk, but for some reason, he just feels really really lonely. He tells her his name and she leads him to the back, getting his suit off a rack and instructing him to change into it. He does so slowly, his emotions suddenly haywire at Harry’s absence, but he soon convinces himself that this is a good thing. He doesn’t need Harry’s concerned eyes or endless accusations or unanswerable questions. He doesn’t need another person to disappoint. He doesn’t need another person to lose. This is definitely a good thing.

Once Louis’ changed into the suit (which does fit a lot better and even looks alright on him) he steps out of the dressing room, expecting to be greeted by the women who he’d seen earlier.

But instead, there’s Harry, hands shoved in his pockets, lip pulled between his teeth, hair falling onto his forehead. Harry with his green eyes and pink cheeks and broad shoulders and furrowed eyebrows. Harry with that soft, gentle gaze, rocking himself back and forth on his heels.

“Hey, Lou,” he says, a tiny smile coming to his face as he steps closer. Louis holds his breath, worried about what noise he’ll make if he opens his mouth. Harry looks Louis up and down once then nods a few times. “That looks really good on you. Do you want to get up on the platform so we can make sure it’s all set?”

Louis nods numbly as he lets Harry lead him in front of the mirror, and he gets that all too familiar sense of awkwardness as he steps onto the platform, once again, out in the open for Harry to scrutinize. Louis pulls the sleeves over his wrists a few times with the overwhelming feeling that Harry’s staring. He finally looks up at himself in the mirror, and for a second, the awkward feeling disappears when he realizes hey, he looks alright. Now he really kind of wishes Connor hadn’t turned him down when he asked him to be his date, because he almost feels date worthy.

“Everything looks perfect,” Harry tells him as he walks a circle around the platform, eyes meticulously looking over every angle of the outfit. Now Louis feels a bit uncomfortable under Harry’s gaze and he almost wraps his arms around himself self consciously, but he resists. “I don’t think we need to make any changes. You can probably take it home now, if you’d like.”

Louis nods quickly and goes to step off the platform, determined to get out of the store as soon as he can. He gives Harry a quick and mumbled “thanks”, but Harry grabs his arm before he can go too far.

“Hey, did you-” he stops mid sentence, swallowing hard as Louis looks at him. “Did you ask that guy? The one you wanted to be your date?” Louis laughs bitterly and shrugs.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and he swears Harry’s face falls and his eyes turn sadder. “He, um- he said no. So.”

Then it looks like Harry perks up a bit at this, but there’s still a hint of a frown etched onto his face. He clears his throat. “So you’re, uh, going solo then?” he asks. Louis shrugs and scrubs a hand over his face, trying his best to figure out what the fuck Harry’s getting at here.

“I mean, yeah, I guess so,” he admits before shoving his hands into the pockets of his new suit. “Didn’t really have much of a back up plan.”

Harry nods slowly as he chews at the corner of his bottom lip, his eyes locked on a spot on the floor. He shoves his hands in his pockets, too, rocking himself back and forth like he’d been the moment Louis saw him (Louis makes the assumption that this is some kind of awkward/nervous habit of his). “Do you, like, want a date?” he finally asks.

Louis sighs a bit, still really unsure of where Harry might be going with this. “I don’t know, Harry,” he says impatiently, although he doesn’t mean for it to come out like that; the tone just kind of happens. “If you can whip up some guy who wouldn’t mind taking my pathetic self to my mum’s wedding, by all means-”

“You’re not pathetic, Lou,” Harry cuts in, his voice infinitely sad and soft as he looks back up at his bright blue eyes. “Don’t say that.”

Louis decides then it’s time to end the conversation, and goes to push by Harry. “I need to get going,” he tells him, shoulders brushing, hands nudging as he heads to the dressing room. But Harry catches his arm one more time, and Louis freezes in the middle of a step.

“Take me with you.”

Louis feels his stomach drop and breath catch at these words, and he has to physically calm himself down before he responds. He takes a steadying breath as he quickly formulates what he’s doing to say before slowly turning to face the boy behind him.

“Look, Harry. I’m not a charity case. I don’t need your sympathy.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows at Louis words before shaking his head. “Louis, I’m not-”

“It’s really nice of you to offer, but if you’re trying to fill some sort of community service requirement for uni, you can do that somewhere else. I’m really not interested.” Harry’s eyes are wide, and Louis thinks he’s gotten his point across enough to turn away again, but lo and behold, before he gets another step in, there’s a warm, tight grip on his forearm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Lou, look,” Harry begins as he steps around the smaller boy to face him. He drops his hand but steps closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I’m not… that’s not why I’m doing this, okay? I’m not like that.” 

Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he says sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Just give me a chance, Louis,” Harry says softly, but his voice is harsh and rough and a bit more convincing than Louis would like to admit, and his eyes are begging and pleading, and his lips are turned downward, and Louis is about to crumble. In an instant he lets his arms fall to his side, and the scowl turns less mean, and the angry monster inside him calms itself.

“Harry, I…” he begins, then pauses as he takes a deep breath, trying to find the way to word it without making himself sound like a miserable twat. “I don’t want to drag you into my bullshit.”

“Don’t worry about that right now, Louis,” Harry begs as he finally loops a few of his fingers through a few of Louis, giving a gentle squeeze. “Forget the hard stuff and the bullshit and just go out with me.”

“Harry, I don’t-”

“I get off work at 7,” Harry continues and Louis is really having a hard time saying no to those fucking eyes. “There’s a coffee shop right in the plaza. It’s great, and the manager loves me, so we get free samples of their newest pastries, and unlimited refills on whatever drinks we want.” Harry must know he’s starting to pull Louis in, because his lips are quirking and his voice is peppier and he’s holding Louis’ hand tighter. “Come with me. Let me prove myself to you.” And now there’s no way Louis can turn him down because Harry looks like he’s just hit the jackpot with that smile and those dimples.

Louis finally breaks and slowly, he smiles, too, and Harry’s grin could brighten an entire arena. “Okay,” Louis breathes out finally, nodding quickly as he squeezes Harry’s hand back. “Okay, fine. Seven o’clock sharp. I’ll be here.”

Harry giggles, he actually giggles, and then he blushes, and Louis’ never seen anything more adorable than that. He drops Louis hand and takes a step back, running a hand through his hair, biting his bottom lip. “Okay, yeah,” he says nervously, nodding slowly before giggling once more. “Sounds good. Seven o’clock. I’ll be ready.”

Louis laughs at Harry’s reddening cheeks, then jerks his head towards the dressing room. “I’m gonna change then. Head out and do some errands for a bit, if that’s okay.” Harry nods immediately, enthusiastically, but Louis thinks at this point, Harry will agree to anything Louis says.

“Oh, yeah, sure- yeah,” he stutters as he motions towards the dressing room. “Just, um, bring it to the front counter and we’ll get a bag for you to put it in and- yeah, you know. All that.” He’s still grinning wider than Louis’ ever seen anyone grin.

“Okay, cool. Thanks.” With a final smile in Harry’s direction, Louis turns back to the dressing room.

“Oh, and Lou,” Harry calls, and Louis spins on his heel to look at the beautiful boy in front of him. Harry’s got that smug little smile on his face again and Louis wants to kiss it off. “Wasn’t lying when I said that suit looked perfect.” He gives Louis a wink. “Not sure if the one I plan on wearing will live up, but hopefully it’ll do.” Louis smirks and rolls his eyes.

“I haven’t officially asked you yet, mate,” he teases as he turns back to the dressing room. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.” He hears Harry chuckle behind him.

“We’ll be the cutest couple at the wedding! Mark my words.”


End file.
